


darling, save the last dance for me

by crazyhomoinspace



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Dance, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyhomoinspace/pseuds/crazyhomoinspace
Summary: “Do you mind if I cut in?”The look on their faces was priceless. Bernadetta’s eyes lit up with fear that Hubert had quite honestly thought she’d gotten over long ago. She began to stammer, looking at Ferdinand for support. Ferdinand, however, looked halfway between confused and amused.“But of course!” Ferdinand lifted Bernadetta’s hand, offering it to Hubert.Instead, he slipped past her and slid his hand into Ferdinand’s.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 16
Kudos: 335





	darling, save the last dance for me

The end of the war broke over Fòdlan like the dawn, bathing the countryside in red. Even those on the side of victory had been worn to bare threads, suffering through sleepless nights and arduous battles against despairing men. Losses had been heavy and, though the hands ticked their way toward victory, morale and hope had dipped low in the last year of the conflict.

“The Anniversary Ball is this month,” Edelgard announced toward the end of one of her daily briefings with her closest aide, Hubert von Vestra. “I trust you’ve begun preparations?”

Hubert took a moment of pause. Preparations? For a ball, of all things? The continent was still catching its breath from the war, and the not insignificant threat of Those Who Slither In The Dark was, despite his best efforts, growing. There was so much to do, and yet his Empress asked for his focus to be redirected to a dance?

“Your Majesty,” he began, a gloved hand over his heart, head bowed forward. “Forgive me for saying. But you’re certain that is the best use of my time?”

Edelgard raised a brow, arms crossed against her chest. “You are the Minister of the Imperial Household, are you not? I believe that event planning falls under your jurisdiction.”

“You are correct, of course. I merely worry abo--”

She stepped past him, pausing for a moment in the doorway.

“You have your orders, Marquis Vestra.”

* * *

Hubert had been happy to leave event planning in the hands of those far beneath himself. His talents and intellect would be wasted on garland and floral arrangements. He busied himself instead, authoring proposals that would stabilize the recent unification of the continent. 

Wrist deep in an agricultural compromise with Dagda, Hubert did not acknowledge the knock on his office door, nor did he look to the light cast on the floor as the caller stepped inside."The day has finally come where I have managed to sneak up on you!"

That bright, arrogant voice was unmistakable. Hubert laid down his quill and sat back, eyes trained on the smug face of Adrestia's shining jewel, their beloved Prime Minister.

"Ferdinand," he greeted, bemused. "Therein lies a difference between you startling me and my declining to acknowledge your presence."

Years ago, when they both wore the heraldry of Garreg Mach Monastery, the words would have been heavier, dripping with venom and intent to start an argument. But now, after the war, they were softened by the slightest smile, painted with banter versus teasing.  
  
"Then perhaps I will simply have to try harder," Ferdinand proclaimed, boisterous and confident.  
  
Hubert laid his quiet to the side. "You must be here for a reason. Tell me what it is so that I may return to my work."

"Of course I have a reason! And a noble one, at that." Ferdinand stood tall, chest puffed out and chin raised.

"I have come to invite you for coffee."

"Coffee?" The bemused, dull look on Hubert's face was sure to betray his response.

If Ferdinand had interpreted his response clearly, he didn't show it. "Well, we have long established that it is you who drinks coffee. I still prefer tea, though I believe I may be acquiring a taste for the drink. When mixed with milk, the texture is quite agreeable. And the headrush--"

"--Duke Aegir--"  
  
"My apologies." A smile graced his face, tongue darting out to moisten lips dry from rambling. "Well? Can you make time?"  
  
There was a hope in Ferdinand's eyes, one that Hubert hadn't seen in quite some time. Unlike so many who burst through the door of his office, his request wasn't one of life-altering importance. In fact, the only thing at stake was seeing the sparkle fade from his expression.

He was tempted.

How lovely it would be to step away, to let the Empire tend to itself while his capable hands poured tea instead of smoking with black magic. He looked fondly upon the days they would sit across from one another in the Monastery’s carefully cultivated garden and Ferdinand would boast about who knows what while taking care to brew Hubert a cup of coffee.

But the smell of the parchment was grounding. He still had hours' worth of work, and would already be at his desk well past sundown. Her Majesty had trusted him to complete his task, and to disappoint her would be unacceptable.

"Regrettably, I must decline." 

Instead of disappointment, Hubert was faced with annoyance.

"How long has it been since you took a break? Need I remind you of the time I watched Linhardt von Hevring, of all men, drag your unconscious body through the garden when you collapsed from exhaustion?" 

It wouldn't be a conversation with Ferdinand if confrontation didn't trickle into the flow. Hubert brought his quill to his lips, habitually licking the tip before dipping the point into the inkwell. Of course he remembered-- it was an embarrassment he never wanted to repeat. The indignity of the matter was only compounded by the bruises and scrapes he'd acquired from the Black Eagles' resident white mage dropping him, and certainly more than once.

He held his gaze to the paper, brow firm and the corners of his mouth downturned.

"Even the sun can't shine every hour of the day." 

Hubert broke his gaze’s lock on the parchment. He opened his mouth, but his body betrayed him by issuing a yawn instead of words.

Ferdinand's face relaxed, and a fond smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "I'll take my leave… but I hope one day to share a drink with my close friend. Preferably before it grows too cold to enjoy the daylight."

As the door clicked shut behind his short-lived visitor, Hubert couldn't help the cold shock of guilt that traveled from his gut into his heart. Such cowardice. He couldn't even muster the wit to properly respond.

The fact of the matter was that he was bound to be chained to his desk into the night regardless. A half hour to indulge in a taste of humanity was not going to change that. He could have afforded the time and, given the yawn, the caffeine. 

But what he couldn't afford was the way his heart fluttered when Ferdinand teased. It was easy to blame the subtle trembling of his hands on the stimulating effects of the espresso he was so fond of, rather than admitting that the redhead's fiery gaze was enough to rattle him. 

What was most frustrating was that it hadn't always been that way. There was a time in the not-so-distant past that the sight of Ferdinand von Aegir lit a fire of anger in the pit of his stomach that rivaled the deepest circle of hell. The constant challenges he posed once pissed him off to the point of truly asking himself if it was worth the trouble and Lady Edelgad's disappointment to dispose of him. Now? The competition was stimulating and endearing.

Hubert's thoughts entertained him until a knock on the door pulled him from his reflection.

"Yes?" He called, allowing annoyance to flavor his tone.

The door creaked open and a girl no older than sixteen, likely a maid, shuffled into his office. Her head was down, a porcelain tray balancing delicately in her hands. She set it down on the corner of his desk not occupied by paperwork, curtsied, and took her leave.

On the tray was a singular cup and a small saucer. The smell of hot coffee filled the room, and Hubert sat deeper in his chair. He picked the saucer up to inspect its contents, holding it up with the tips of his fingers. Upon moving it, a small, wax-sealed note fell from behind the cup. He placed the saucer down with care, acutely aware that spilling milk on his documents would spiral him into a breakdown somebody was sure to not survive. 

The artfully swirled seal in blue, red, and gold bore an imprint of the House of Aegir. He slid the tip of his finger along the edge of the parchment, opening the note without destroying the carefully laid wax seal.

'But if the sun must shine into the night, then he will need the strength to outshine the stars in their rightful sky.'

Such an insufferable man, Ferdinand von Aegir was. Very well. If that was the game he wished to play, they could both take their turns. Ignoring his reddened cheeks and the insistent smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Hubert reached for a fresh parchment.

"Maximilian," he called, summoning his personal assistant. "See to these instructions at daybreak."

* * *

Dressing for the ball had not been something that Hubert von Vestra was anticipating to fret over. It was not his duty to enjoy himself. In that same vein, however, he did have to reflect favorably on Her Majesty. In most cases, he'd simply task a servant to dress him, but every available body was supporting the banquet and the ball that was to follow.

Frivolous. In his well-educated opinion, the Empire could not yet afford the luxury of a dance. Her Majesty's focus had yielded to her girlish desire for merriment. No matter. Once the event was over, Hubert knew how to rein Edelgard's attention in and lead her back to the bloody path he'd cut for her.

But first, he supposed, he'd have to pick out a cape.

Hubert spent much of the banquet in silence, subconsciously scanning the floor for threats. That had been one of the first lessons that his father had instilled upon him as a child. He wasn't to take his eyes off of Lady Edelgard. He was to watch what she was eating, where her back was turned, who she accepted drink from. Though the land was peaceful, he didn't yet fully trust the individuals holding positions at Her Majesty's side. They were smiling and laughing now, but this event was the perfect distraction, the perfect reason for Adrestia’s emperor to let down her guard…

Obsession buzzed comfortably in his brain. His father, cruel and corrupt as he may have been, had certainly installed a convenient coping mechanism. His mind could be so easily occupied by fantasies of sedition and treason when the image of the redheaded Prime Minister swirling Brigid’s finest red wine under his nose before he took a sip would threaten to take his attention by the throat.

Oh, how Hubert was thankful that Edelgard was situated between them. He didn’t think he’d be able to take being seated beside Ferdinand. He was loud and challenging, and only became more of a pest in a group. 

A quick glance found Adrestia’s bright-eyed sweetheart to be involved in a lively discussion of music with a former classmate and sister in arms, Dorothea. Hm. The last time Hubert had checked, the two were not on friendly terms. But the way they were laughing, the warm smile on Dorothea’s face… the way Dorothea sprung to action when Ferdinand spilled a drop of wine from his goblet, dabbing at his face with a cloth napkin like he was a dribbling child.. 

Hubert tore his gaze away, finding immediate interest in his own half-empty wine glass. His heartbeat resonated against his eardrums, lips and brows drawn into a scowl, cheeks far too hot to be a byproduct of the alcohol.

What an asinine thing to worry himself with. 

* * *

Every nobleman knew how to dance, but enjoying the act was an entirely different situation. As the banquet bled into the ball, Hubert found himself shrinking into the darkness. He stood sentinel in the shadows, stern and intimidating as he watched Her Majesty take the hand of a faceless nobleman whose name Hubert had not yet deemed important enough to learn. Pairs were forming, falling into the bright, lightly-stepped waltz the band was playing. 

“Hubie.”

The disrespectful nickname sent a chill up his spine, his lip curling in annoyance. Only one had ever used it.

“Dorothea,” he greeted. “To what do I owe this… honor?”

She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “Now’s hardly the time to be slinking in the shadows,” she admonished. “Won’t you dance?”

A scoff. “I am merely here to ensure Her Majesty’s safety. Dancing is not on my list of priorities.” 

Dorothea tilted her head, scanning the dance floor in front of them. “Is that so?” Her lips drew into a smile. She knew something, and not knowing what it was… well, it was unsettling.

“My dear Hubie,” she sighed. “Edie is on the other side of the ballroom.” 

What? Hubert stepped forward urgently. She was just trying to rile him up, of course. Her Majesty had been right there, between Sylvain Gautier’s cringeworthy mating dance directed toward a man he was already married to, and Ferdinand von Aegir crouching down the tiniest bit to indulge Bernadetta von Varley in a dance. 

But she was right, and Her Majesty had ghosted off, the red of her dress lost among a sea of nobility. 

What had drawn his attention so? Surely it wasn’t the sight of Margrave Gautier making eyes at Duke Fraldarius. But why would he be so entranced by Bernadetta and Ferdinand? Two old classmates sharing a dance wasn’t anything worthy of staring. 

But it was endearing, the way Ferdinand dipped to accommodate Bernadetta’s height, or the way he took extra care while lifting her. He was smiling so brightly, freckled nose wrinkling.

“Your lipstick has found its way to your teeth. Perhaps it might suit you to fix that,” Hubert muttered, stepping out of the darkness and into the glittering light of the ballroom. He didn’t need to look back to know that Dorothea was glowering, a finger rubbing at her front incisor.

If he chose to, he could blame his boldness on the glass of wine he’d paired with dinner. Truly, he was just a man, giving into over a half-decade of growing admiration that was turning to desires for afternoon tea dates and sharing a dance.

The song was coming to an end and Hubert stalked closer to the couple, waiting to step forward so that he wouldn’t be struck with a whirling Bernadetta. They paused, however, when they saw him, and Hubert gave a quick bow. 

“Do you mind if I cut in?”

The look on their faces was priceless. Bernadetta’s eyes lit up with fear that Hubert had quite honestly thought she’d gotten over long ago. She began to stammer, looking at Ferdinand for support. Ferdinand, however, looked halfway between confused and amused. 

“But of course!” Ferdinand lifted Bernadetta’s hand, offering it to Hubert.

Instead, he slipped past her and slid his hand into Ferdinand’s. 

He’d be lying if he said he’d never seen Ferdinand blush before. He distinctly remembered seeing those cheeks and ears burn red as Ferdinand handed over a bag of fresh coffee beans that he’d purchased with Hubert in mind. But this was different, more bold than a mutual exchange of one another’s favourite drinks. This gesture of Hubert stealing Ferdinand away on the dance floor was difficult to explain away as a nod to their respectful professional relationship. 

It was Hubert’s turn to blush, however, as Ferdinand stepped seamlessly closer, lacing their fingers together and placing his hand on his shoulder. 

“May I..?” Hubert’s hand hovered over Ferdinand’s waist, not daring to make contact.

“Certainly. You would cause a spectacle by forcing me to dance with your hand upon my shoulder like children.” Ferdinand took his hand off of Hubert’s shoulder and pressed his hand onto his waist before returning it to its perch. “Let us away.”

Having studied dance from the time he was a young child, Hubert found the footfalls to be quite thoughtless, a sweeping, languid waltz while his eyes were trained on something much more interesting.

It may have been the light, or the influence of the serene music, but Ferdinand was lovely. His hair, naturally curled, had been tied away from his face with the most intricate gold-trimmed ribbon. His outfit was flashy as ever, the flowing cobalt blue fabric of his cape caressing his leg as they turned. 

“You follow quite easily,” Hubert pointed out, teasing aloft in his voice. “Would you say that you have practice?”

Ferdinand’s smile tilted into a grin. “A true nobleman always puts himself in the opposite position. How else is he to profess complete understanding?”

Hubert opened his mouth to respond, but lost the air to speak as Ferdinand dropped his hand to his waist, swapped the hand he was holding, and turned them around. Hubert cursed under his breath, stumbling and tripping over himself as he tried to adapt to his new position.

“It seems you would do well to try it sometime,” he taunted.

Hubert answered with a hum, busy trying to remember where to place his feet. It felt good, Ferdinand’s hand on his waist. He’d danced with numerous faceless partners over the years, but this felt so different- saccharine to the point of choking, warm to the point that his cape was smothering.

He would have been content to dance like this forever, he thought, mind pleasantly blank from its normal obsession with his lady’s affairs. The music slowed, though, and with it, Ferdinand’s grip loosened and his hand relinquished its hold on Hubert’s waist. It was disappointing, even if the words were far too embarrassing to speak aloud.

“A spectacular dance,” Ferdinand praised. When did his voice become so breathy? Surely a leisurely waltz wasn’t enough to wind a practiced noble. “I must say, your need to show me up borders the pathological.”

“Show you up? After your incessant proclamations of superiority over our emperor,” Hubert scoffed, chin lifted. “Praytell what you are blathering on about.”

Oh, that was a look Hubert had never seen in Ferdinand’s eyes before. He looked almost hungry, calculating, like a wolf ready to take down its prey. 

“You never allowed me to thank you.” Ferdinand’s voice had damn near dropped an octave, and Hubert found his throat to be dry. 

He clenched his jaw, trying in vain to maintain his more domineering air. “What have I possibly done to earn your gratitude?”

The smirk on those lips was delectable. “You play coy,” Ferdinand accused gently. “The tea you had prepared for me. You knew my schedule to the very minute to offer such a gesture. And then you come and sweep me off of my feet?”

Ferdinand stalked closer, and Hubert was finding it increasingly difficult for his vocabulary to perform at the caliber he’d come to demand of it. “You are predictable, Duke Aegir.”

“Oh, am I?”

All Hubert knew in that moment was the grip of the gloved hand on his collar and warm lips pressed to his. 

It was little more than a peck, just a pressing of lips together intended to get a point across. Still, Hubert never dared to dream that this would become a reality. He’d resigned himself to the thought that his first kiss would be laid upon his lips on his wedding day by whatever noblewoman Edelgard found to be a convenient fit. Any desire for physical affection that manifested on its own had proven easy enough to squash. This kiss, as pedestrian and shallow as it was, would be enough to fuel the fires of his wet dreams for embarrassingly long. 

Ferdinand made the first move, and was the first to withdraw. Hubert hadn’t noticed Ferdinand’s other hand twisting into the fabric of his tailored coat, and was delighted to see him keep his other fist full of Hubert’s collar. 

“My, my.” Hubert would have liked to say more, but the urge to bury his hands in that mane of copper hair was much stronger. He slid gloved hands along Ferdinand’s cheekbones, grazing over his ears before his fingers found themselves to be wrapped by thick curls.

They came together once more, but this time, Ferdinand’s lips were relaxed and parted. A shock ran up his spine as his tongue flicked out against his teeth, requesting permission as tactfully as the situation would allow. There were no words, just the soft motion of lips moving together and the electric feeling of a tongue sweeping inside his mouth.

“You taste of my favourite wine,” Ferdinand purred, lips not even a centimeter from Hubert’s. “I should like to kiss you until my head spins.”

Yes, how lovely that would be. But unlike Ferdinand, it seemed, as he leaned in for another kiss… Hubert was acutely aware of the setting. He was also well aware of the absolute scandal it would cause for the Minister of the Imperial Household to be caught, for lack of a better description, making out with the Prime Minister of Adrestia during a public diplomatic event.

They parted with a gasp, and Hubert idly wondered if he was as red in the face as Ferdinand was. He was panting, tongue sticking out just the slightest bit, swollen lips upturned in a hungry grin. Oh, but he was irresistible, wasn't he?

“We are very much in public, Prime Minister,” Hubert pointed out, bringing his lips to Ferdinand’s ear. The resulting shiver was truly making it hard for Hubert to resist devouring him.

“So we are,” Ferdinand purred. “Though, I think we are in an area inconspicuous enough to prevent the Empire’s gossip mill from running us through its wringer.”

"Even so, I have matters to attend to," Hubert announced.

Ferdinand hummed. “I’d say that you do,” he teased, and when Hubert felt the ghost of a knee against the crotch of his pants, he knew that there was no point in resisting any further.

He did not wake up that morning anticipating the thought of sex to cross his mind. It wasn’t an act he spent any time thinking about. even Hubert von Vestra gave into his most base instincts upon occasion, rare though they may be. Before the war, he never thought about much besides the act. Masturbation was a means to an end, a way to center his mind or to trick his body into sleep when the weight of his job and his studies threatened to crush him. After the war, he found his mind wandering. A once blank psyche had started forming fantasies, lustful visions involving handfuls of red hair, bitten red lips, parted equestrian’s thighs. He reached his end more quickly, more intensely, but found himself wiping his hand with shame and having to force himself to look Ferdinand in the eye at the next Situation Room seminar.

Never, not during a single dream, did he ever dream that the subject of his fantasy would seek him out. Hubert didn’t consider himself an expert of interpersonal communication— it was hard to hold a conversation when most people cowered from him— but even he couldn’t mistake the look in Ferdinand’s eye, how he blushed, how he held his bottom lip between his teeth.

He wanted him. Badly, if he was interpreting all of the signals correctly. And though Hubert found it to be illogical and the slightest bit absurd…

...By the Goddess, it was such an intoxicating feeling.

“I suppose it would be bold of me to invite you to my bedchamber for a nightcap,” Ferdinand finally spoke, tone hushed against the swelling music of the next waltz.

Hubert’s chin tilted upward. “Yes, it would be.” The faintest hint of a smirk found its way to his face. “But I wouldn’t call the idea… revolting.” 

“Certain your lady can spare you?” 

Frankly, the last thing Hubert wanted to think about in a time like that was Lady Edelgard. 

“Our Empress can certainly watch over herself for a night.”

The laugh that came from Ferdinand’s chest was enthusiastic enough that Hubert was tempted to stop and think if he should be offended.

“To think, I’ve finally found a way to call you off of your master’s lap! If I had known that was what it would take, I’m certain I would have kissed you sooner.”

It was Hubert who brought their lips together this time, a hand on Ferdinand’s broad, muscled chest guiding him into the very shadows he’d been lurking in at the start of the ball. Ferdinand must have been embellishing; as he slid his tongue along his partner’s, he tasted no wine. That didn’t mean that the experience wasn’t pleasant. Quite the opposite-- what a welcome feeling it was, losing himself in Ferdinand’s mouth, swallowing tiny gasps and the beginnings of pleased moans. 

As Hubert pulled away, Ferdinand’s teeth took hold of his bottom lip, and it took every fiber of his being to stop himself from slamming that impetuous man up against the cold marble wall. 

One of the perks of being a high-ranking official within the Empire was the bedchamber given for longer diplomatic affairs. Hubert had seen Ferdinand make use of his quite often, had seen him trudge off for a glass of wine and a good night’s rest after a particularly energetic negotiation with the lords formerly of Faerghus. It would come in handy now, when the two sought more intimate company. 

Though it pained Hubert to do so, he pulled his mouth away from Ferdinand’s and allowed himself to be led to the deepest reach of the east wing, where Ferdinand’s quarters lay tucked away. His own bedchamber wasn’t far, and indecent, all-too-forward thoughts of a late night call made his stomach burn with excitement.

As soon as the door was closed, Ferdinand’s hands were on his chest and their lips were pressed together. The privacy of the bedchamber gave Hubert room to breathe, to lay his hand on the curve of Ferdinand’s hip, to let his fingers brush a blushing, freckled cheek and entangle themselves in red curls.

“May I interest you in a glass of wine?” Ferdinand panted. Wishing to keep his mouth busy, Hubert’s lips pressed against Ferdinand’s jawline, his throat, until a pleased gasp rose from his partner.

Oh, he wasn’t especially fond of alcohol, but he would drink those sweet noises until his teeth rotted out of his head.

“Wine is not what I have a taste for this evening.” 

Hubert wasn’t sure how that statement would be received-- he wouldn’t call himself a wordsmith trained in the art of seduction. His words were better suited to a darker form of persuasion, to insults and treachery in the name of his Lady. But if Ferdinand’s response of tilting his head to the side to expose more of his neck and pawing at his own belt to banish it to the floor was any indication, he was at least coming across favorably.

Ferdinand always had a quip, a statement, poised to have the last word. Hubert found that a mouth on his throat, paired with the occasional hint of teeth, was enough to reduce him to pleasured sighs and moans that were steadily increasing in their neediness. He could feel the occasional bump of clumsy fingers as they worked to lighten their owner’s body of his flashy formal clothing.

“Lie down,” Hubert encouraged, the hand on Ferdinand’s hip guiding him toward the bed. “I’d like to start a fire before I have you completely bared for me.” It was an unusually cold Lone Moon, and even with the warmth of blankets and a bed partner, they were liable to freeze naked in the stone and marble of Ferdinand’s quarters.

“Then I pray you do not take too long,” Ferdinand sighed, voice already ragged. Just how wrecked would he be by the end of the night? Oh, what a fascinating experiment that would be.

It didn’t take long for Hubert to stack the logs and spark them with magic, but he was thankful for the moment’s pause. He prided himself on his level head, and Ferdinand was quickly tipping him into madness. 

“Patience never was a strength of yours,” Hubert teased, unclipping his cape and allowing it to fall to the ground. 

“Oh?” Ferdinand asked, tossing his hair back as he untied his cravat. “I’d beg to differ. I’ve been waiting for you for years without losing my decorum.”

Hubert nearly tripped over his own boot as he pulled it off. “Did you say years?” he asked, incredulous.

“That is what I said. For someone with such a tremendous wit, you can be quite tunnel-visioned when you see fit.” Ferdinand brought himself to his knees on the mattress, hands smoothing out over Hubert’s chest. “I have wanted you since that evening in the garden.”

That day was forever etched into his mind’s eye. Hubert revisited often, when his mental fortitude begged some weight to be removed. Instead of dark deeds and bodies needing to be lined up, he would dream of coffee, bitter and hot on his tongue, in the company of a man who shone brighter than any summer sun. He remembered watching Ferdinand slowly pour water over the ground coffee beans, bottom lip clenched between his teeth in concentration. The awkward laughs, the gazes held too long, the blushing of their cheeks, the scent of peonies and gardenias lulling them past their drinks’ end… Hubert never spoke of the memories aloud. That would prove too embarrassing. Hearing of Ferdinand relishing the day, however, was most intriguing.

“Have you?” Hubert hated how his voice wavered. “That long… I suppose your patience is an asset to be commended after all.” He licked his lips. “But I must ask what caused you to wait so long.”

Ferdinand worked the lacing holding Hubert’s shirt closed with battle-calloused fingers. “I fear boyish reluctance held me back. You can be a difficult man to read, though I am coming to understand you far more greatly. I wasn’t sure if you would be willing to entertain a suitor of my…”

The word lost itself on Ferdinand’s tongue, but Hubert was confident that he knew what he meant. 

“An asinine factor to worry oneself with,” Hubert shook his head. “Lie back, darling. It is high time your patience be rewarded.”

Maybe it was the pet name, or the promise of what was to come, but that seemed to soothe Ferdinand’s moment of worry. He laid back against the pillows, curls spreading on the bedspread like a halo of sunbeams. Hubert’s thumb traced a swollen bottom lip for a moment before it was pulled into a wicked mouth, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold back for very much longer.

As Hubert took his hand back, wanting to free his partner from the thin undershirt he still wore Ferdinand’s teeth latched onto the fabric of his glove and ripped it off. He looked up into Hubert’s eyes, triumphant, still keeping hold of the glove.

“You incorrigible devil,” Hubert hissed under his breath, hoping to hide the way his breath hitched and his voice wavered in his throat.

Ferdinand needed not reply. Hubert snatched the glove from his lips and replaced it with his tongue, maneuvering his body so that he was straddling narrow hips. The glove was dashed to the floor along with its twin, bared hands working impatiently to remove Ferdinand’s loose undershirt. They parted momentarily, just long enough for Hubert to pull the garment over Ferdinand’s head, cursing lightly as it got stuck in his quickly tangling mane.

He couldn’t keep away long. Hubert was quickly becoming addicted to the taste of Ferdinand’s kiss. But his partner was beginning to prove impatient, and fingers laced in black hair, pushing downward in a not-so-subtle suggestion was all that he needed. He released Ferdinand from their furious lip-lock, attaching himself to his throat while his hands settled on his stomach. The way his muscles jumped under his fingers was curious, and the gasp he was rewarded with was delectable.

“Is something the matter?” Hubert asked, fingertips brushing his sides as teeth scraped the sensitive skin covering Ferdinand’s jugular. “I’ve been told my hands are quite cold.”

Ferdinand groaned, head lolling to the side. “Mmm, not at all. They’re quite warm this evening. I would like to feel more of them.”

Then it would be so.

Hubert’s mouth roamed down Ferdinand’s body, affording a gentle kiss to each jagged scar. He remembered long nights after particularly taxing battles, watching from afar as Ferdinand tended his wounds. His heart would clench in an inappropriate desire to comfort him, to take over wrapping bloodied knuckles and hold him in hopes that his body heat could convey what his pride wouldn’t allow him to speak aloud.

‘I cherish you. I am thankful that you are alive.’

‘I think I may love you.’

Of course, there was no point in reminiscing. The reality was that he had Ferdinand laid out before him now, his to kiss, his to touch, his to hold. And if the state of his partner’s trousers gave him any indication, Ferdinand would surely prefer that he live in the present, and oh, how rewarding it would be.

He reached his destination, hands taking hold of strong thighs. Hubert’s hand wavered over his partner’s groin, bright eyes seeking assurance.

“May I?”

Ferdinand arched his back, head pressing into the pillows, gaze upward. An airy laugh left his lips, a hand reaching to cup Hubert’s cheek.

“Oh, you have all of the permission in the world,” he groaned, hips writhing in anticipation.

Hubert nodded, focusing his attention on untying the dress breeches keeping him from his prize. He tugged them down impatiently, taking Ferdinand’s undergarments with them. He took the time to free his lover’s legs, knowing that coming back later to dispose of clothing would only frustrate him. 

The sight of Ferdinand bared before him was overwhelming. He was decadent, spread out and flushed like an expensive piece of erotic artwork. For a moment, Hubert almost felt guilty, like such a sight wasn’t his to behold. The worry was cast aside easily enough by the downright lewd way Ferdinand met his gaze and licked at his lips.

“Pleased with the sight?”

“Very,” Hubert purred, running his thumb along the underside of Ferdinand’s cock. The angle was much different than he was used to, but the motions were familiar. His body knew what to do, even if his mind was still so taken by the fact by the fact that he’d been taken to bed. 

Ferdinand chuckled, one arm thrown lazily beside his head, the other reaching for any bare skin his fingertips could touch. 

"I'm afraid I don't have much patience to give you tonight," Ferdinand confessed, finally grazing Hubert's cheek. He sat up, Hubert swinging his knee away so that he'd have enough room to maneuver. 

Ferdinand steadied himself with a hand on Hubert's chest as he straddled his hips, sliding it to the headboard as he lowered his shoulders to press his chest to his partner's. One of Hubert's hands fell to Ferdinand's waist, the other drawn to untie the ribbon still holding his hair back.

"Don't soon forget that this is a reward for you," Ferdinand whispered in his ear, octave dropped and voice husky. Breath caught in Hubert's throat and he could swear that the bed was swaying underneath them.

"The opportunity to touch you is reward enough," Hubert countered, attempting to anchor an unruly curl behind Ferdinand's ear in a gesture. 

The blush on Ferdinand's cheeks and chest grew hotter. "That may be," he began. "But you will have all of the time in the world to touch me. I think it's high time you allow yourself to be the one adored." 

The words touched him in a way Hubert lacked the brain power to name, especially as he felt Ferdinand's hand slip down the front of his trousers. He hissed out as a thumb teased the slit at the head of his dick, hips jumping outside of his control. The palm of Ferdinand's hand slid down the underside of his shaft, fingers curled around his balls and stroked back up to the tip. A groan left Hubert's lips, eyes closing in a pleasure he so seldom enjoyed.

Ferdinand shifted above him and his upper lip twitched with the loss of the hand on his dick. He didn't have long to wait, however, as his partner yanked his trousers to the floor in clumsy, hasty tugs. He lifted his hips to help, ridding himself of his undershirt by the time Ferdinand returned to him.

They had seen each other naked before, but never so intimately. Hubert could feel Ferdinand's stare, primal and hungry, and couldn't help the urge to look away, to try to melt into the blankets to cover his modesty. But Ferdinand wasn't having it, coming to rest between Hubert's knees. He didn't have time to respond, to question what he thought he was doing, when red curls tickled his thighs and hips, and a tongue lapped at the tip of his cock.

Oh.

He must have vocalized his pleasure, as he felt a soft exhalation of air as Ferdinand's lips teased along the shaft. "It feels good?"

Did Ferdinand truly have to ask? Hubert answered by letting his head fall back, bringing his hand to his partner's hair. He bit down on his lip to choke back an unbecoming moan as Ferdinand truly took him into his mouth, calloused hands resting on his hip and his stomach. That cursed man would be the end of him. 

It felt heavenly, better than anything he'd experienced. Granted, it didn't take much to beat a rushed, empty handjob in the dark of his bedchamber. Every touch felt like fire, from where Ferdinand hollowed his cheeks on each rise, to the tickle of his hair where it broke loose of its tie to cast a veil over their indecent indulgences. Hubert pulled the tie off and let it fall to the bed, holding handfuls of red curls away from Ferdinand's flushed face so that he could watch. 

Goddess, what a sight.

Ferdinand looked up at him as he sucked, pulling off with a gentle pop and licking his swollen lips. Hubert cursed at the loss, the burning that had been building low in his gut fading to embers. 

"Such a tease," he hissed out, leaning back against the headboard. He could feel the weight on the mattress as Ferdinand stood, confidently striding across the chamber. "Where are you going?"  
  
Ferdinand looked back at him, a finger to his lips. He pulled a vial from his writing desk and winked before pivoting on his heels to return to bed. 

"What is that?" Hubert asked, taking the vial as it was offered to him. Ferdinand reclaimed his space in his lover's lap, and was welcomed with a possessive arm around the waist. 

"You're an intelligent man," Ferdinand purred, leaning forward to whisper into Hubert's ear. "Use your imagination."

It was hard for Hubert to imagine anything with teeth tugging needily at his earlobe. 

Hubert popped the lid, setting the cork down beside him. He passed the vial under his nose and, finding it inoffensive, poured a drop into his palm. He spread it under his thumb, the motion frictionless, and his breath stopped in his chest.

Ferdinand's grin buried itself in the crook of his shoulder.

"I'd like you to take me, Hubert," Ferdinand breathed, kissing at his jugular. 

"Take you..." Hubert repeated, rubbing the oil between his thumb and forefinger. "...You'll allow me?"

Ferdinand tipped a small puddle of the oil into his own palm and spread it over Hubert's fingers in motions that mimicked his earlier handjob. He raised himself up on his knees, spread just enough to allow Hubert access. 

"Allow?" he breathed. "I've been dreaming of it for years," he moaned, pawing at Hubert's chest. 

Hubert licked his dry lips. "Well," he whispered under his breath. "Then I only hope I should live up to your fantasy." 

Gently, he guided his slicked fingers to Ferdinand's entrance. He circled with a finger, enjoying the breathless moans and the way Ferdinand's hips shifted in anticipation. Well, he wouldn't make him wait any longer. He slid in slowly, pausing as he felt the bite of nails on his shoulders. 

"Are you alright, my darling?" Hubert asked, pressing a kiss to Ferdinand's temple.

He nodded, smiling against Hubert's neck. "I fear I might float away if I'm not grounded."

Satisfied that his partner wasn't in pain, Hubert pressed in and drew back, earning himself a soft sigh. He'd only read about the act in theory, but practice was proving to be more instinct than anything. It wasn't long before Ferdinand was rocking his hips against Hubert's hand, and Hubert was giving him another finger to ride.

"You're taking it so well, sweetheart," Hubert whispered against his temple. Ferdinand was lost in the rhythm, eyes closed and brow clenched. The words made him shiver, threading fingers through Hubert's sweaty black hair.

"More," Ferdinand gasped, jaw going slack as a beautiful cry rose from his throat as his hips angled backwards against Hubert's hand. Hubert was three fingers deep by that point, and was running out of more to give.

Gently, Hubert withdrew his fingers and rubbed his partner's thigh. "Very well, then."

This time, he'd leave the position up to Ferdinand. Fantasies bloomed forth in his head, visions of himself holding Ferdinand's face into the mattress while he chased his own pleasure. Or maybe Ferdinand would take pleasure in taking him, holding his arms behind his back and commanding Hubert to behave as he pressed inside...

...Perhaps next time.

Ferdinand chose to straddle his hips, reaching behind and stroking his cock with an oiled hand as Hubert sat up against the pillows, wanting more access than lying flat would give him. Ferdinand held him steady as he lined up and sank down slowly, eyes fluttering shut and sweet whimpers rising from his lips. Hubert held his slim waist tight, rubbing at the curve of his hip bones in soothing circles. 

If his expression was anything to go off of, Ferdinand was in absolute bliss. He was flushed from his ears to his chest, covered in a light sheen of sweat. Red curls had begun to stick to his forehead. His lips were bitten and swollen, and Hubert found it difficult to take his eyes away-- especially when the corner of his lips tilted upward and his mouth opened in a pant, nodding fervently.

Hubert could have gotten off on the sight alone, and he surely would revisit that moment on lonely nights. But the feeling was damn near enough to bring him to his knees, and he suddenly understood just why wars were fought over sex. Ferdinand rocked in his lap, shallow and testing, and Hubert couldn't help the gasps and 'ah, ah,' that rose from his lips. He was so unbearably tight, fitting around him like they had been designed by the Goddess with one another in mind. Every upward draw of Ferdinand's hips made him twitch, and he ground upwards as his lover sank back down.

"What a good boy you are," Hubert muttered as Ferdinand used those equestrian's abs to his advantage, finding a lively rhythm that was stealing the breath from his lungs. Hubert tightened his hold on Ferdinand's waist, using the leverage to fuck up into him with intensity that made Ferdinand tremble. He curled his fists, clawing at Hubert's chest, certain to leave marks that Hubert would consider fondly as he buttoned his shirt in the morning.

Hubert dragged Ferdinand just the tiniest bit forward, and Ferdinand keened. The sound went straight to Hubert's cock and his hips stuttered in a lapse of control. He loosened his hold and rocked gently instead, searching Ferdinand's face for any sign of discomfort. He found none, his lover bouncing harder in his lap, searching for more of that delicious friction. 

“Nnh… ah, yes.”

Words seemed to be too much for Ferdinand, but it was becoming obvious that he'd just about reached his limit. Each thrust had him wailing, filling the chamber with that beautiful singing voice of his. He had begin to slump, and one of Hubert's hands had left his waist to cup his cheek. 

Once his legs started to shake, Hubert knew that Ferdinand's peak was close. He let his hand roam to Ferdinand's cock, spreading his pre-come with a stroke of his thumb. It only took two pumps of his fist before Ferdinand was spilling, grinding his hips down into Hubert's and crying out above him. He was panting feverishly, trying to stroke his own hair away from his face.

Hubert pulled his hand away, making a show of licking his finger for his lover. His cock throbbed and twitched inside of Ferdinand, calling for more friction so that he may meet reach his own end. But despite the stamina that Hubert knew Ferdinand proudly possessed, his shaking legs and spent body were making it hard for Ferdinand to get purchase to resume his movements.

"Flip me," Ferdinand panted, rising off of Hubert's cock and rolling onto his back, arms by his head and one knee pulled up toward his chest. "Keep going, keep going," he babbled.

Who was Hubert to deny? He climbed on top of Ferdinand, sinking his fingers into his raised knee and guiding his cock back to his entrance. Ferdinand sucked in a gasp as he slid back inside, eyes clenched shut.

It wouldn't take Hubert long to finish with a sight like that before him. Ferdinand was absolutely delectable, spread out and arching up just for him as he began to move. Hubert held his thigh hard enough to bruise while the other took hold of the headboard, using the heavy oak to gain leverage to put power behind his thrusts. The room was full of the sounds of lovers, Ferdinand's sweet wails, Hubert's low grunts, the pounding of the bed against the thick stone wall. Hubert lost himself in the rhythm, and it wasn't long until he was falling out of sync, hips pumping off-beat as he chased his orgasm. Ferdinand looked entirely overwhelmed, eyes rolling back and fluttering, fingers clenching at sheets, pillowcases, and Hubert’s skin to ground him through the overstimulation.

His peak crashed into him, his cock twitching in time with Ferdinand’s needy cries. He came with a snarl, burying his face in Ferdinand's pale throat.

When he finally came down from his high, Ferdinand was smiling up at him, stroking his sweaty hair out of his eyes, the other hand rubbing at his shoulders.

“There you are,” he greeted softly, his voice absolutely wrecked. 

“Mmm,” Hubert responded, falling to his elbows on either side of Ferdinand’s head, careful not to rest on his hair. “You… I…”

Ferdinand smiled, freshly fucked and gorgeous. “Mmm, fucked that sharp tongue loose, have I?” He teased, running his fingers through Hubert’s bangs.

Hubert couldn’t help but laugh, the idea of being fucked out of his sharpness so absurd… but after the whirlwind that night had been, he wouldn’t doubt it. He withdrew as gently as he could, tucking his softened cock away as he settled down beside Ferdinand. But the distance seemed too much for Ferdinand, who rolled closer and laid his head on his chest. 

The tenderness was heavenly. The fire burned low beside them, casting a dim, flickering glow over the chamber. Though the sweat on his skin was rapidly cooling, Hubert felt warm, heavy… cozy, even. The ticking of the clock was lost to Hubert, and he chose instead to keep time with strokes down the length of his partner’s hair. He wondered idly if Ferdinand was growing tired of his preoccupation with his hair, but the soft ‘hm?’ and reappearance of bright eyes as he paused in his ministrations was confirmation enough that he enjoyed it. 

Hubert would have liked to stay there forever, but the stickiness was becoming too distracting for him to find sleep. Though it pained him, he moved his hand to Ferdinand’s shoulder and kissed his temple, making moves to break the cuddle they had found themselves entwined in. 

“Where are you going?” Ferdinand muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion, reaching for his bed partner. Hubert stood, running his thumb over the back of Ferdinand’s hand.

“Not far, darling. You’ve earned your rest.” 

Hubert was a man known for his strategic mind, and he was ever thankful that he’d had the foresight to put a pot on to boil. He dipped a cloth in the hot water, taking it to his skin once it was cool enough to stand. It took only a moment for him to scrub sweat and Ferdinand’s drying semen off of his stomach, but it felt like a lifetime. Once he was done, he re-wet the cloth and brought it to his partner. 

Ferdinand was the picture of satisfaction, sprawled on the sheets like indecent artwork, reaching lazily for him. He took the washcloth with a grateful smile, and was done cleaning off by the time Hubert was settling down on the side of the bed.

Hubert allowed Ferdinand to pull him back into the mess of pillows and blankets they’d made. He settled on the flat of his back to allow his partner to wiggle into his arms, his head on Hubert’s chest and a knee between his legs. Hubert reached for the hand that had been laid on his chest, toying idly with his fingers as he closed his eyes.

“In all these years past,” Ferdinand started, words muttered against the flesh of Hubert’s chest. “All of the bickering and annoyance… all I had to do to get you to relax was kiss you?”

Hubert chuckled, burying his nose in the top of Ferdinand’s head. “It seems that way.”

Ferdinand hummed. “With your work schedule, prepare to be kissed more often.”

It would take more than a simple peck on the lips to upend Hubert's dedication, but the thought of the occasional distraction was tempting. “I will welcome it.”

Once Hubert’s eyes had closed, there would be no reopening them. He could feel sleep tugging at him, lulled by the delightful heat of Ferdinand’s body and the slow pull of his breath. 

But even as he drifted off to sleep, he found himself resigning to the fact that perhaps there were some indulgences that could take precedence over his work, and he would have to make sure to keep his partner— his lover’s favourite tea on hand.

**Author's Note:**

> FE3H has taken me by the hair. 
> 
> I've been having trouble writing for the last few years, but finally found something I truly enjoy writing! I did decide to try a new writing style--please let me know if you enjoyed it!! I love the energy between these two and will be playing with them more.
> 
> I am trying to become active on twitter @ thotpokkit and welcome being yelled at. UwU


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